European modulation mode

“Some elves had flexible moral bottom lines and directly joined the Ottoman Empire, which was at its peak, such as the ancestors of our Angros family.

Some people simply abandoned the empire and joined various separatist forces to make a living on their own, such as the Komnenos family of the Despotism of Epirus and Artemisia who joined the Slaanesh Pirates.

But you, I thought you were a fanatic like Indrognir, willing to fight to the death for the Eastern Roman Empire, but you did all this even if it meant going against the 13th Janissary Legion, just to fulfill a promise similar to that of a mercenary? You left Constantinople immediately after the agreement was fulfilled. Now you are unwilling to join various forces, including the Ottomans? What on earth are you thinking?"

"A true man is born between heaven and earth. How can he be depressed and inferior to others for long?"

Aenarion said casually that he, a time traveler, had no idea what this fast

The dead Eastern Roman Empire had no sense of family and country, but it was impossible for it to join the Ottoman Empire and attack Thomas, who had once fought side by side with it, sent it a lot of things, and saved its life.

Astariel was a little annoyed. It was already a shame for her to be captured. If she was released by the enemy like this, it would be even more shameful. She didn't know what kind of humiliation she would suffer in the Janissaries, which had strict military discipline, and it would bring shame to the Angelos family. Now she had only one chance to make amends, which was to recruit this promising elf and his caravel to surrender, and maybe she could reduce some of the punishment.

"Okay, I choose to stay."

Astariel thought for a long time and finally made a choice.

"But I want a private, comfortable room on the ship's top floor. You and that Slaanesh bitch make so much noise every night that it hurts my eyes, and I have not left the Ottoman Empire! I will continue to persuade you to join the Janissaries. One day you will understand that I am doing this for your own good, Aenarion."

"Oh, I'll wait and see then."

Aenarion breathed a sigh of relief, pulled out his dagger, and untied the ropes that had bound her for a week. Although it was not unacceptable for Astariel to leave, it would definitely be a great boost to his own strength if she stayed!

Now, I am the Fatan in the team, Artemisia, the Slaanesh Paladin, can resist, fight and heal, and can play any position, Nidalee is the physical output, and now there is Astariel, the omnipotent magic control and output, the basic configuration of a team has been completed.

After being untied, Astariel adjusted the gold-rimmed mirror frame, found a chair to sit down, took out an antique book from her dimensional bag, bathed in the refreshing sea breeze, and read quietly. She had not been able to read for seven consecutive days, which made her feel suffocated.

This huge fleet sailed southward unimpeded. At sunset, several Viking longships with ill intentions tried to approach from behind, which surprised Aenarion. It was already the 15th century, how could there still be Viking longships floating on the sea? Artemisia turned the ship sideways, and Aenarion ordered the zombies to open the portholes on the right side, revealing twenty black gun barrels, aiming at the Viking longships and pretending to fire.

Aenarion looked at the ships, they were too far away to be clearly seen, but on the leading Viking longship, two terrifying scarlet figures were vaguely standing.

Seeing that the caravel was about to fire all its cannons from the broadside, the Viking longships did not dare to resist and quickly turned around. Aenarion did not fire a single shot but scared away those small boats of unknown origin.

Although Constantinople is only 600 kilometers away from Izmir, it is still early spring in March, and the wind is blowing from the west. Unlike paddle boats, sailboats cannot ignore the wind direction and use human power to go against the wind. They must adjust the angle of the hull and sails and move forward slowly. After three days and three nights, they arrived at the picturesque Izmir safely. A successful escort, Aenarion made a small profit of 900 silver coins.

If there were fifty-four normal crew members, the money would have to be distributed to the crew as commissions and expenses, but his ship was full of undead, so he didn't even have to prepare food and drink, let alone commissions. Naturally, all the money went into his pocket. It had to be said that the Necromancer was the most awesome capitalist.

Astariel became happy when she saw that she was back home. She opened her arms and breathed in the air of her hometown, while she kept telling Aenarion the story of the Janissaries.

"Let me tell you, the treatment of the Janissary Reserve is very good. Every meal is provided with enough wine, meat and food. If there is anything you like to eat, you can ask the chef for it. There are also a lot of benefits during festivals, such as silk and other valuables.

Those children who were conscripted into the army through blood tax or slave market may have never eaten meat before. When they suddenly tasted such delicacies, their eyes would light up and they would wish they could eat their own fingers. Every child who came out of the reserve grew tall and strong because of adequate nutrition. The Janissaries of my generation all said that they were very happy to be the Sultan's slaves and that their living conditions were much better than before at home.

Once you pass the reserve and successfully join the Janissary, your previous welfare benefits will become better. In addition to providing food and accommodation, the Sultan will provide you with equipment, weapons, staffs, and robes for free, as well as free maintenance, and you will also receive military pay.

For each professional level you have, you can get one silver coin a day. A level 120 warrior can get 240 silver coins a month. For a spellcaster, it doubles. A level spellcaster can get silver coins a month!"

"Yeah, it's quite high."

Aenarion, who was not very clear about the military pay situation here, answered Astariel's words perfunctorily.

"You'd better cover your face, otherwise you might be recognized."

"Ok."

Astariel obediently took out a scarf and covered her cheek under her beautiful nose. While talking about how great the Ottoman Empire was, she got off the ship with Aenarion and met Captain Izar.

"Thank you very much for your escort, Master Aenarion."

Izar thanked him politely, took out a large bag of silver coins, counted them, and settled the commission for the escort. Her three galleys also docked one by one. A small number of fully armed Turkish dark elves filed out of the cabin, and behind them was a group of naked, half-handcuffed, shackled, and collared people.

Giants look very similar to humans, but their average height is close to three meters. There are both men and women, and one-third of them are semi-giant children who are more than two meters tall!

Aenarion's eyes widened in disbelief. "You mean slaves? Most of them are even children!"

Under his astonished gaze, three or four hundred half-giants were driven off the ship by the Turkic elves. They were strung together with iron chains, lined up in neat rows, and divided into three teams at the port. The adult male half-giants stood in one team, the adult female half-giants stood in the second team, and the children stood in the third team.

The dark elves, one by one, carefully observed their naked bodies as if they were animals, to confirm whether these people were sick. Some dark elves with not very clean hands and feet even played with the private parts of these slaves with their hands, weighed their snow-white breasts, and assessed the size of their genitals.

"Captain Izar, these slaves were injured during the capture, and now their wounds are festering and rotting. Do you want to treat them?"

A few novices dragged a few Viking half-giants who were shackled and chained and asked the captain for instructions.

"They are not worth the money for the medicine, just kill them."

After Izar politely handed the commission to Aenarion, he turned around and said calmly.

"As ordered."

Several Turkic elves wielded their spears without hesitation, and with horrifying screams, they accurately pierced the necks of the half-giant slaves one by one! The gushing blood flowed into their lungs through their broken respiratory tracts, causing them to drown in their own blood one by one.

The movements of these slave owners were extremely smooth and skillful. They did not hold back even when facing children. They quickly and neatly killed the nine half-giants whose wounds were worsening and oozing festering. Then they collected their handcuffs, shackles, and collars, and kicked their bodies into the sea to feed the fish.

The Ottoman guards in charge of port security looked at them coldly and continued walking forward and patrolling, as if this was very normal.

"Okay, move quickly. Drag the men to the labor market and sell them, and drag the women to the brothel and sell them. These three-meter-tall semi-giants are very popular among the local elves. They like the feeling of driving a big car."

Izar's calm words easily determined the fate of three or four hundred slaves.

"Hold the collars of these children and follow me. I will personally take them to meet Governor Muhammad. These semi-giants, who can reach a height of three meters when they grow up, are one of the best sources of soldiers for the Janissaries."

"As ordered."

The Turkified dark elf soldiers carried out the captain's orders without hesitation. These slaves might have been captured by them in the same area or the same village. Many of them were couples, mothers and children. They were divided into three teams and dragged to three places to be sold. Hundreds of restless slaves suddenly roared with anxiety and rose up in resistance in desperation!

The fathers waved their shackled fists in anger and fought with the slave owners with their bare hands. The mothers struggled to hold their children tightly, roaring like wild beasts to prevent the dark elves from snatching the children from their arms. The half-giant children cried and called out their parents' names, not wanting to be separated from them. For a moment, the whole port was in chaos!

Under Aenarion's shocked gaze, the dark elves skillfully put on masks and threw glass bottles filled with nerve gas directly into the slave group, causing puffs of emerald green poisonous mist to instantly cover the entire group of slaves. They then pulled out poison-soaked whips and lashed the slaves who dared to resist, suppressing the riot with great skill.

One after another, the ferocious whip heads fell on the half-giants like a violent storm. The poison, accompanied by redness, swelling and broken skin, invaded their bodies and paralyzed their nerves, making the half-giants over three meters tall lose the ability to resist. They could only collapse to the ground powerlessly, shedding blood and tears, watching their wives being dragged away by the dark elves to be prostitutes, their children being sold to the Sultan to be a war machine that only knew how to kill, and they themselves were also sold to farms and mines, with only endless labor and hard labor in the future.

For a moment, the angry and desperate roars of parents and the miserable and tender cries of children resounded throughout the entire port.

Aenarion clenched the gun in his hand angrily, looked at the huge and prosperous city in front of him, and then loosened his grip again. He glanced at the children who were dragged away from their parents, and clenched his gun again. He struggled countless times. Fortunately, the mask covered his face and expression, so he was not exposed to Izar.

He turned his head and found that Astariel was watching the Janissary entrance ceremony with a look of great shock.

"Estariel, are you sure that the Janissaries of your time say that they are living very happily?"

PS: Woohoo, please give me a monthly ticket~QAQ

Chapter 73: Viking Half-Giant

"No, it shouldn't be like this. That's not what the teacher and the book said!"

Astariel pushed her gold-rimmed glasses in shock, staring at the brutal scene in disbelief, muttering to herself.

In past instruction, parents and teachers had said that joining the Janissaries was the greatest honor and a stepping stone for non-ogre races. Classmates also expressed their immense happiness at joining the Janissaries, but no one had ever said that these students were actually abducted and snatched away from their parents in this way.

Shouldn't their parents, like their own parents, have high expectations for their children and aspirations for the empire?

Send the children to the Janissaries faithfully and with honor? The sight of those children crying tormented her mind like a nightmare.

Aenarion said nothing. This was the largest seaport city of the Ottomans and the base of the 13th Janissary Legion. After saying goodbye to Izar politely, he brought Astariel, whose worldview was shattered and whose face was filled with shock, to the artillery market to buy some shells and gunpowder. However, the merchants' first question stumped him.

"What size and dimension of shells do you want?"

The artillery technology of this era had just matured and no unified standards had been established. About one or two hundred years later, people began to use fixed shell weights to regulate artillery sizes, such as a 6-pound cannon that fired 6-pound shells and a 12-pound cannon that fired 12-pound iron shells. In modern times, the caliber of the gun barrel was used, such as the 88mm smoothbore cannon and the 225mm smoothbore cannon.

But now, the gunpowder craftsman asked about the size of the shells...

There was no other way, so Aenarion invited the artillery master to his ship and let him see the size of the ten dwarven cannons. A few dark elves measured and recorded a lot of data before returning to the workshop. They measured with the granite and cut out a cannonball suitable for the dwarven cannon. Well, a cannonball weighs about 5.4 kilograms. Converted into pounds, these dwarven cannons are 12-pound stone-shooting cannons.

What surprised Aenarion was that Ottoman gunpowder was upgraded again in just two weeks. It was said that an alchemist improved the formula of gunpowder. Two weeks ago, each bullet and shell required two-thirds of its own weight of gunpowder to propel it. Now this new type of black powder only needs half the weight of the bullet to achieve the same effect, and even increase the range and power.

A granite bullet weighs 5400 grams, and a portion of gunpowder for firing weighs 2700 grams. Granite is everywhere and very cheap, so these artillery masters simply buy gunpowder and get shells for free. Even if you buy it in the Ottoman Empire, where gunpowder is the cheapest, 2700 grams of gunpowder costs 135 silver coins. The cost of firing is frighteningly high. No wonder Izar added an extra sentence during the negotiations, saying that all artillery firing costs would be borne by her.

Aenarion paid 1350 silver coins to buy ten granite shells and the corresponding gunpowder. He also gave up the idea of ​​volley firing, which was too expensive. He could not afford it at all. It would be better for him to use the true strike spell to operate the cannon and snipe accurately one by one. The sound of the cannon was worth a fortune. If you didn't have some money, you wouldn't dare to play with the cannon.

However, the power of this artillery is also extremely huge. His matchlock gun shoots 30 grams of projectiles, which can reach 10-80 damage. This granite bullet weighs 5400 grams! A difference of 180 times! Magical reconnaissance can no longer show the specific power of this new technology artillery. Although it is extremely difficult to load and the accuracy is worse than that of the matchlock gun, as long as it can hit the target, Mahmoud may not be able to withstand a 5.4 kg, high-speed granite shell.

Seeing that his own ship was truly equipped with cannonballs and gunpowder, Aenarion breathed a sigh of relief. Although there were only ten shells, his Ulthuan now had the ability to truly fight on the sea!

Aenarion found his own sign to attract customers and continued to hang it on the bow, but he changed the words "Italians" to "Ottomans" and waited for the second customer to come.

This time, the guest arrived very quickly. He was a male half-giant wearing a blood-red cloak, with messy red beard and hair growing together, mixed with a lot of wild whips, and a complete black wolf skin draped over his shoulders. He was three meters tall, with muscles all over his body bulging like hills, and he was extremely strong.

The man had a hideous face and his eyes were bloodshot, so that only a horrible scarlet color remained inside his eye sockets, as if there were two balls of burning fire, and two traces of blood and tears ran through his entire face.

Behind him, there were ten half-giants who were also wearing blood-red cloaks and holding two-handed axes. Each of them was over two meters eighty centimeters tall, and there was also a strange man who was also wearing a blood-red cloak but holding a spear and a shield.

"Legend has it that in an era older than Alexander's Empire, there lived in Northern Europe a type of frost giants that were between five and fifteen meters tall and weighed tons. These giants domesticated white dragons and mammoths as livestock and mounts, and rode Leviathan whales across the frozen ocean to dominate the north."

Astariel whispered the origins of these half-giants.

“But later, the climate changed dramatically, and Northern Europe could no longer support such huge creatures. These huge frost giants were almost extinct in hunger and war. Instead, they interbred with the Germanic people, and the half-giants who were only two to three meters in size, had smaller food requirements, and were smarter survived and continued to live in Northern Europe. Books generally refer to them as Vikings or Norscans.

Sometimes Viking children would revert to their ancestral form and turn into frost giants of terrifying size again, feeding on white dragons and mammoths. They traveled around in longboats. The Varangian Guard, the imperial guard of the Eastern Roman Emperor, was composed entirely of these half-giants. Now, there are some half-giants in each of the twenty Janissary legions, serving as excellent melee assault forces.

The Egyptians in the south like these half-giants even more. When their Mamluk slave army turned into Mamluk half-giants, they called themselves Astartes monks.

Aenarion nodded. It turned out that the Vikings in this world were half-giants, and indeed they were very huge.

"

Hello, elf, I am the chief of the Black Wolf Clan, Morlock! We traveled all the way south from Northern Europe and finally settled on the northern shore of the Black Sea. "

The half-giant wearing a blood-red cloak barely suppressed the anger in his heart and talked to Aenarion.

"You and your ship are now the blood feud of our Black Wolf Clan! Deadly enemies!!!"

"Have I known you before?"

Aenarion gave the enraged half-giant a strange look. This must be the first time we meet.

"How can I not recognize you?! You were protecting the slave ship carrying the Dark Elves, and you were even pointing your cannon at our Viking longship, ready to fire! We had no choice but to retreat and leave!

Do you know? Those damned long-eared people plundered a village under my rule, looted all my people and property, and burned what they couldn't take! When I arrived, the whole village was left with only a scorched earth!

I led the warriors of my clan to chase them overnight, fought several battles with them on the Black Sea, and almost got my people back! But they fled to Constantinople and hired your ship to go with them. If it weren't for your big ship and forty cannons, how could those dark elves' slave ships escape from my grasp and reach Izmir? ! "

Moloch angrily took out a huge Viking axe and crackled his finger bones with his hands.

After listening to Moloch's explanation, Aenarion realized that one of the two bloody figures he had seen on the Viking longship should be him.

"I apologize for this. It was only after I arrived in Izmir that I realized their cargo was slaves."

Aenarion said sincerely.

"But you brought people to my ship today to negotiate instead of attacking directly. So, do you want to hire us to fight the Ottomans and rescue your people?"

"That's right! Since you're a mercenary, as long as you accept my employment, the feud between you and the Black Wolf Tribe will be written off! Otherwise, we will fight to the death!!!"

Moloch said viciously with bloodshot eyes.

"My people have entered Izmir and started gathering intelligence, but this is Izmir, the largest seaport city of the Ottomans. I don't have enough troops and ships, so I need your help. After I rescue my compatriots and escape, I will need your large sailing ship and cannons to escort us.

I only want people, and anything I snatch from the slave market will belong to you. After the task is completed, I will pay you 3 silver coins for each tribe member rescued. How about it?"

Chapter 74: Mark of Khorne

"How many of you dare to start a war in Izmir? There is an entire Janissary Corps stationed here."

Aenarion was a little worried, and he felt a little sorry when he saw the tragic end of those children, but he did not take action because he considered the city's defenses to be too strong.

"I have eight Viking longships under my command, each with eighty raiders who are good at using javelins, axes and shields. Some have no professional level, and some are first-level warriors. The flagship Skull Reaper carries eighty-eight raider champions wearing chain mail! Each of them is a warrior among warriors! With three warrior levels! Fuck the Janissaries! Fuck Allah! The one I believe in is the true God! I just don't have artillery, so I'm at a disadvantage in naval battles. I need your ship to cover my people's evacuation!"

Aenarion felt something was not right as he listened, and he vaguely noticed that there was a bloody rune mark on Moloch's neck covered by the black wolf waistcoat, so he used a reconnaissance spell.

After these days of training, the psychic has become very proficient in psychic skills. Before, when he used psychic power, his eyes would glow purple, but now there is no external manifestation. Unless you are a person who is very proficient in magic and psychic power, you can't tell that he is casting a spell.

Aenarion stared at Moloch, but no text appeared, not even a disguised message. Was his reconnaissance skill ineffective?

Aenarion refused to believe it and cast two more detection spells. The second one still failed, and the third one succeeded.

【Morlock】

Level 8 (Level 8 Warrior)

Health 130, Mana 0

Great Axe Hit +22, Physical Damage 25~37

Protection 5 (Brass Armor +8, Agility -1, Butcher's Nail -2), Magic Resistance 20

Strength 30, Agility 8, Constitution 30

Intelligence 8, Wisdom 8, Charisma 8

[Mark of Khorne: Embrace of Chaos]: Strength +2, Constitution +2.

[Mark of Khorne - Butcher's Nail]: Always in the ultimate state of barbarian rage, with only anger for the rest of his life, Strength +8, Constitution +8, Life +32, Will +2, Defense -2. Cannot use any charm, agility, intelligence, or skills and abilities that require patience or concentration, cannot cast spells, and cannot use magic items that require commands to activate.

[Mark of Khorne·Brass Rune Leather]: A full-body plate armor made of brass grows out of your body, merging with your flesh and skin, growing together, defense +8, and gaining spell resistance of 12 + character level.

What the hell is this? Why are the blessings given by these Chaos Gods more awesome than the others? The Sun God I met was so stingy. No wonder so many people believe in Chaos these days. They are really willing to give blessings.

Aenarion did not agree immediately, but looked at Astariel.